


tailored

by catbeans



Series: they get a strapon but this time in space [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bottom Han Solo, M/M, Pegging, Trans Luke Skywalker, theres a scene w an IM injection but brief n positive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbeans/pseuds/catbeans
Summary: Luke had managed to ignore the thought for a long time.For a long time, it hadn't been hard.His unease around his body had been rectified easily enough; getting there hadn't been easy, the relief slow to come, but once it had, Luke had other things to worry about, and he was finally able to without the persistent itch of his skin feeling like a sweater that didn't fit quite right.(luke is trans and i dont see any reason they wouldnt have strapons in space)





	tailored

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt put this in my series w han being chronically ill/lukes prosthetic bc it doesnt go w the Theme, but it does reference han+luke hooking up w lando in the third part, which you dont Have to read for this its just mentioned a couple times
> 
> not sure if this needs saying but dont use any of this as medical advice lol

Luke had managed to ignore the thought for a long time.

For a long time, it hadn't been hard.

His unease around his body had been rectified easily enough; getting there hadn't been easy, the relief slow to come, but once it had, Luke had other things to worry about, and he was finally able to without the persistent itch of his skin feeling like a sweater that didn't fit quite right.

Finding a supplier had been a challenge; with no organized system for medical care on Tatooine, anyone without the money to go off-planet had to resort to the handful of almost-professionals who set up shop in Mos Eisley or around Tosche Station, with pop-up tents that lasted for a couple days before moving on to the next trading posts. Sometimes they came with smugglers, shipping in commonly needed medications, and sometimes people had to find their own and hope their chosen smugglers came through.

Luke spent weeks of days off and stolen hours from mostly-finished chores going from practitioner to practitioner, stocking up on syringes when it became clear that access to both medication and what he needed to administer it would not be consistent or easy.

He was eventually directed to a run-down ship at the far end of the makeshift marketplace, all the money he owned stuffed into his pocket.

The loading ramp was lowered, a small table set up in front with a sign pinned to the wood, painted with a symbol Luke didn't recognize next to the word  _ pharmacist _ in Basic, written again in a handful of languages that Luke only knew a couple of.

The only person Luke could see was the tall woman sitting at the table, swiping through an old, dinged-up holopad, looking up when Luke stopped a few feet away.

Luke had never been this close before; he had to remind himself not to get his hopes too high, but his heart was hammering in his chest and his hand shook when he touched his pocket to feel for the credit chips.

“You need something?”

Luke looked around before stepping up to the table. “I was told you might be able to help me.”

The woman put the holopad down and leaned forward towards Luke, elbows against the table. “Depends what kinda help you're looking for.”

Luke looked over his shoulder again, checking that no one was in earshot before he  said, “I heard, um…” He swallowed thickly. “You might have testosterone oil?”

“That I can help you with.”

It took Luke a second to process what she said, another few seconds of replaying the words in his head before it hit him.

He had finally found it.

He was  _ so close. _

“Human? Fully?”

Luke nodded.

“Didn't want to assume.” The woman pushed the chair back and stood up, shouting up the loading ramp, “Rook! Got a customer, need you out here.”

A short Cerean shouted something back at her, running out a few seconds later.

They didn't give Luke a moment’s thought before taking the woman's place at the table.

“We can talk inside,” she said, waving Luke in after her.

The ship was dim and cramped, the ceilings low enough that the woman had to duck each time they went through a doorway.

She stopped him in a small room, popping open a compartment set into the wall. The shelves inside were laden with packets of pills and glass bottles of varying sizes, the largest no longer than Luke's pinky.

“First time taking it?”

Luke nodded.

“Step on the scale, please.”

Luke didn't realize what she was referring to until she pointed at a small square on the floor.

It beeped when he stepped on it, beeping a second time when the woman held her hand at the top of Luke's head to compare to the lines etched into the wall.

Luke could barely breathe.

She whispered the numbers to herself when she turned back to the compartment, trailing her finger down a chart taped to the inside of the open part of the wall.

“Gonna give you point-four milliliters a week, see how that goes,” she said. She dug through one of the shelves before pulling out a syringe, pointing to one of the small lines towards the end with the needle. “You fill it up to here.”

Luke nodded.

“You know what to do?”

“I, um,” Luke stammered, “I looked it up.”

“Sit down,” the woman said, gesturing towards a crate on the floor. “Pants to your knees, please. Underwear can stay.”

Luke had to clench and unclench his hands a couple times before he managed to do as she said; he didn't mind undressing, but he had spent so long telling himself not to get too hopeful, so long with dead ends and endless fruitless leads, it barely felt real as the woman pulled on a pair of stretchy gloves.

She paused when she reached for the glass bottles.

“You got money?”

Luke nodded, reaching down to where his pants were caught around his knees to dig the credit chips from his pocket.

The woman nodded to herself and took one of the larger bottles off the shelf. “This’ll last you fifty weeks if you stay on schedule,” she said. “And you don't over-medicate. Don't do that.”

“I won’t.”

“You got a Galactic Standard calendar to keep track?”

He nodded again; he didn't, but it would be easy enough to find one.

Luke was entranced as he watched the woman prepare the syringe she had taken out to show Luke the dosage; she popped the cap off of the glass bottle, swiping an alcohol swab over the top, another one over the thick needle that she used to pull the oil into the syringe. She capped it and twisted the needle off, replacing it with a thinner one, swiping an alcohol swab over that, too, before she brought another one over to Luke with the syringe and the bottle.

She tore the packet open, swiping it over Luke's thigh, cold in the few seconds before the alcohol evaporated from his skin.

Luke could hear his heartbeat racing.

“Run me through it so I know you know what you’re doing.”

“You, um.” Luke had to stop and take a deep breath before he could put the words together. “Pinch it.”

She pinched the meat of his thigh between her thumb and the rest of her fingers.

“And put it in all the way.”

“You need an inch to get to the muscle,” she said. “If you can only find longer needles.”

Luke had to take another few breaths when she held the needle close to his skin.

“And then?”

Luke didn't say anything.

“You pull back on the plunger,” she prompted, and when Luke was still quiet, “If there's some air, you're good. Any blood and you have to start again.”

Luke nodded.

He couldn't tear his eyes away when she slowly pressed the needle in, only wincing at the resistance once it hit the muscle about halfway down.

“Stop holding your breath.”

He didn't realize he had been.

The syringe-end of the needle hit his skin, a tiny air bubble appearing in the oil when she pulled back on the plunger.

He had to remind himself to breathe again when she pushed the plunger down.

It ached, slowly, the muscle feeling tight as the little circle of rubber inside the syringe made its way to the needle.

She deftly pulled it out, wiping the alcohol swab over the tiny red dot, rubbing the heel of her palm over his thigh for a few seconds.

He had barely had time to process that it was happening at all, and then it was already done.

Luke felt like he was buzzing.

“I’ll be back here a week from now,” the woman said, tossing the first needle and the syringe and the gloves into a tightly-shut bin. “You can come back if you want to make sure you're doing it right.”

Luke nodded, stiffly standing up from the crate and pulling his pants back up.

The ache in his thigh made him feel giddy.

Luke gave her a handful of credit chips, taking a couple back when she sifted through them and found more than he had needed to give her.

“You got needles?”

“I have a few.”

She turned back to the shelves in the compartment in the wall, handing over some syringes sealed in plastic and wrapped together with a piece of twine.

“You want the thicker ones to get the oil into the syringe,” she said, pointing to the label. “And those for doing the actual shot. You want as close to 25-gauge as you can get, but not smaller. And swap which leg you do each week.”

Luke nodded, and before he could put them in his pocket, she gave him a small paper bag for the syringes and the bottle of oil.

Luke numbly stared at the bag in his hands before the woman took it back with a muttered, “Hold on…”

She looked around for a pencil, scribbling onto the bag before giving it back to Luke.

“Any emergencies, that's the call number for this ship,” she said. “Can’t guarantee I’ll be around, but…”

“Thank you,” Luke said, and he had to ignore the sudden urge to hug her. “So much.”

“Just doing my job,” she said, shutting the compartment and leading Luke back outside. “I know how shit it can be getting hormones out here.”

 

He still had about half a bottle left when he had to leave Tatooine, and even through everything else, it was still hard not to think about it burned and shattered with the rest of the farm.

There had been times he had had to ration it off, giving himself slightly smaller doses when it would be too long between shipments, but the thought of having to go without entirely made his insides feel cold.

He hadn't expected it to be so easy to get on a military base.

“You're not the only one taking it,” Leia had told him, bringing him down to medical after he had finally caved and desperately asked her for help. “You should have said something earlier.”

“I didn't know,” Luke mumbled.

“They helped me with mine as soon as we got here,” she said. “I should have thought to ask.”

 

Surgery had been more of a matter of logistics than anything else.

He had been introduced to binding by another pilot on base, who showed him how to measure himself to make his own, which standard-issue clothes had the best fabric.

It hadn't mattered much before, without much to compress and doing just fine with an old, tight shirt he had cut to stay hidden under a looser top.

It had still been a revelation, not having to layer or worry about jackets, but the tightness around his chest didn't do any favors for his training.

He had the opportunity, an uneventful few weeks during that year without Han, and he took it without a second of hesitation.

The shots had, eventually, brought a peace to his mind he had never realized he could have, his voice cracking before settling into a lower tone that made it hard for him to stop talking, just so he could hear it; his jawline looked stronger, his Adam’s apple prominent enough to cast a shadow on his throat in the right lighting, the hair on his legs and below his bellybutton growing thicker and dark. The shirts he sometimes borrowed from Han were a little less loose in the shoulders.

His first day without the bandages around his chest felt like a puzzle being finished; it was another few months before the feeling came back to his skin, startling a near-manic laugh out of him when he realized he could feel his shirt brushing against his chest.

 

He didn't think much of it after that; his shots had become just another thing to do, as routine as shaving or smearing the scar cream onto the jagged lines left over from the second Death Star.

The scars on his chest had faded well, going from a raw pink to the same shade as the rest of his skin another few months after the feeling had come back, only visible from the faint shine of the smooth scar tissue.

It just felt normal.

He had heard of other surgeries, but the recovery from his first was enough of a hassle, and he didn't mind what he had; he felt right, and he felt whole, and he had done all the tailoring he needed to do for his body to fit him.

It didn't hurt that Han  _ adored _ him.

He had never made Luke feel out of place, never made Luke feel like anything other than what he was, even with his hand or his head between Luke's legs.

There was still that thought pushed down years ago, almost completely forgotten until he and Han had met up with Lando when they happened to be in the same place at the same time.

It was hard to stop thinking about it after that.

He had never gotten the impression that Han had any issue with the fact that Luke couldn't fuck him, but it still prickled at the back of his skull, the  _ sounds _ Han had made and the dazed look on his face when he had flopped down to the bed with a flush that almost reached his chest.

Han never brought it up, and Luke tried to forget about it; it didn't work.

The thought made itself impossible to ignore a couple Standard months later, on a short leave between two recon missions that were too close together to bother going back to base.

He and Han had decided to stay in the Falcon, easier to get back to than any of the rooms they could have rented for the few days they were there.

Luke stopped for a second a couple streets away, speeding up before Han could notice the sign on the building he had been looking at.

There hadn't been many of those kinds of shops on Tatooine; no one had the money to spare, or even the time, and the occasional pop-up stalls were never successful enough to sell much.

Still, he had seen the vibrators and toys, other things in boxes that he hadn't understood yet when he snuck a quick, embarrassed glance while he was still looking for someone to get his hormones from.

He remembered one he had seen with straps, and he remembered a conversation overheard between a pilot and a mechanic, years ago; he hadn't thought much of it then, speeding up with his heart in his throat in the hopes that no one had noticed what he had heard.

It was hard to stop thinking about the next day, and with only a few minutes before leaving for the next mission, he darted into the store, an inconspicuous bag tucked under his arm when he came back out.

The bag stayed unopened in a drawer in Han’s bunk for weeks.

As soon as he got it, it felt too self-indulgent to use; his shots had been a necessity, like a first chug of cold water after hours in the unforgiving suns, his surgery the best option logistically for the sake of his training, the stiffness in his back and his shoulders making his prosthetic twitch whenever he felt a spasm.

Those had been needs, and he had never doubted that, but this was a  _ want. _

He  _ wanted _ to be able to fuck Han.

He had understood, eventually, that being taught to cut himself off from personal attachments had been wrong; stifling emotions was never good for anyone, let alone beings whose Force sensitivity made them particularly prone to feeling  _ deeply.  _

That still didn't give him a pass for self-indulgence.

There had been fancier strap-ons, ones that buzzed or pulsed or had different attachments to change the shape, but this had to be for Han, he told himself; he picked out the simplest, dark blue silicone with soft black straps and no extra bells and whistles, but every time he went to the drawer with the bag, he pulled his hand back with a frown.

He hadn't even asked Han.

If he didn't ask Han, it would only be for himself, and he couldn't bring himself to let that be the case.

Han still hadn't found the bag, but Luke couldn't stop his mind from wandering to it every time he had nothing else to think about.

It was the day after his shot when the words came tumbling out before he could stop them.

Han was sitting on his bunk, Luke lying next to him with his legs draped over Han's, absently massaging Luke's thigh where it felt sore and tight from the day before.

It wasn't any different from any of the other times; Han never watched Luke give himself his shot, anxious and uneasy around needles, but he was always there after, kissing the small red spot on his thigh and kneading the muscle between his palms.

Luke wasn't sure why this was the time he couldn't stop himself.

“Do you wish I could fuck you?”

Han’s hands went still for a second before he went back to rubbing the heel of his palm over Luke's thigh. “Sounds like a loaded question.”

“It’s not,” Luke said, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Han. “Do you?”

Han glanced over at him before looking back down at Luke’s thigh.

“I wouldn't...mind it, obviously,” he said slowly. “But I don't...mind...not having you fuck me.” He paused, and when he looked over at Luke again, he looked close to concerned. “Why?”

“But would you  _ want _ me to?”

Han frowned. “What’s this about?”

“It’s a yes or no question,” Luke said. “Please.”

Han took a deep breath and rubbed his thumb over the red spot from the needle. “I'd like it if you could fuck me,” he said eventually, giving Luke's thigh a quick squeeze before moving Luke's legs from his lap, shuffling down against his side to kiss him. “Also like everything else I do with you.”

Luke's chest felt warm when he pulled Han closer against him by the front of his shirt.

It took a minute before he could get himself to break away, shivering when Han dipped down to kiss along his neck.

“I…” He had to bite back a whine when Han mouthed over a still-sensitive mark from the night before. “I got something.”

Han propped himself up on his elbow, and before he could say anything, before Luke could second guess himself, he slid out of the bed and went to the drawer with the bag.

It was still untouched--he had been right when he had thought the best place to hide it would be where Han kept his equally untouched cleaning supplies.

He had to force his breath steady when he took out the bag and closed the drawer; his heart was pounding, blood rushing in his ears, but he had gotten this far.

He took a deep breath and turned around.

Han had sat up again by the time he did, that same look on his face somewhere between confused and concerned until Luke pulled the box from the bag.

“Is that…?”

Luke nodded, and he had to remind himself to stop biting his lip when he tasted copper.

He pulled out a small bottle next; he had almost forgotten to get it, never had the need for it before.

Han let out a slow breath and reached out to pull Luke back over by the waistband of his boxers. He took the box and the bottle from Luke to put next to him on the bed, tugging Luke closer with his hands at Luke's hips.

He sounded breathless when he asked, “When did you get that?”

“A few weeks ago,” Luke said quietly. “You don't--we don't have to use it, I just thought, after--”

Han cut him off with a kiss, pulling Luke down by the front of his shirt. “I really,  _ really _ want to.”

Luke couldn't hold back a soft, desperate sound, pushing Han back against the wall to climb into his lap.

“Can’t believe you were holding out on me for  _ weeks,” _ Han murmured, slipping his hands up Luke's sides to pull his shirt up and off.

Luke leaned in again to kiss him as soon as his shirt was over his head, couldn't care less about where it had landed when Han slowly dragged his hands up Luke's thighs before settling at his hips with a soft squeeze. Luke couldn't help rocking down against Han, already feeling the damp spot in his boxers as soon as he did; he shouldn't be surprised, always got going quick and easy in the first few days after his shot, but the thought of being able to actually fuck Han was more than enough on its own.

Han pulled at his hips with each jerky, stuttered movement until Luke was mindlessly grinding against him, soft sounds bubbling from his throat when he felt Han starting to get hard underneath him.

He still couldn't get himself to pull away just yet, breaking the kiss with a groan to topple out of Han's lap, almost falling onto the box.

“You know how to work that thing?” Han asked, pulling off his jacket and his shirt.

“Not really,” Luke admitted, popping open the box to pull out the still-sealed strap-on and the neatly wrapped up harness.

Han’s expression was so warm Luke forgot how to move for a second.

It took a minute of untangling while Han got undressed before the harness looked like something he could actually put on; Han stopped him before he could step into the loops for his legs, absently rubbing his palm over his dick.

“I think you gotta put that on first,” he said, handing Luke the strap-on.

“Oh…” Luke fumbled with it for a second before it snapped into place at the front of the harness.

It took another minute of adjusting the straps before it was snug around his hips; Luke's hands started to shake, half from nerves and half from embarrassment at how awkward this was, but it all melted away the second he looked back up at Han.

Han had gotten fully hard, circling his fingers tight around the base of his dick when Luke stood a little straighter and turned his hips to check that the harness felt secure.

Luke didn't think he had ever seen Han looking so desperate, his eyes wide and his cheeks dusted with pink as he pulled Luke back to the bed.

Luke leaned down to kiss him, reluctantly standing upright again and reaching for the bottle of lube before Han could pull him down.

He popped the cap open, and then he froze up.

He had done this before, fingering Han open for Lando, but that had been different, somehow; Lando had taken over after Luke got it started, and Luke hadn't been the one to do the actual fucking that time.

Consciously, in theory, he knew what to do, but actually  _ doing _ it--and doing it all himself--felt completely out of his wheelhouse.

“You good?”

Luke nodded. “How do you want…”

Han’s eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile before he turned onto his front, pulling his legs up under him so he was on his elbows and knees.

Luke couldn't help staring for a few seconds before he took a deep breath and squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers, getting back into bed behind Han.

Han’s breath hitched when Luke smeared the lube over his ass, cool against his skin without any heat from Luke's prosthetic. Luke squeezed out some more lube along Han's ass, and then more on his fingers, and he didn't get the chance to ask if Han was ready before he spread his knees a little further apart and arched back towards Luke's hand.

Luke had to remind himself to breathe as he slowly pressed his pointer finger into Han.

Han let out a deep breath, leaning his forehead against his hands, balled into fists by the pillow. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure--?”

_ “Yes,” _ Han groaned. “Don't be a tease.”

Luke would have been, just for him saying that, if it had been any other time.

He pulled his hand back to slick up his fingers, a little more resistance this time when he slid two back into Han.

Han groaned high in his throat, pushing back against Luke's hand when he started scissoring his fingers.

Luke had missed that sound, playing it over in his head since that time with Lando; he pressed his fingertips down, his heart skipping when Han let out a breathy whine, his shoulders shaking.

Luke kept rubbing over that spot as he scooted closer, leaning in to kiss along Han's spine. He could feel Han trembling, his voice cracking on a moan when Luke circled his fingertips over Han's prostate before pulling his hand back.

Han’s back arched when Luke slicked up his fingers again and added his ring finger this time. He slowly pumped in and out until Han was rocking back against his hand, angling his hips so Luke brushed over his prostate each time, needy whines muffled from biting his knuckles.

Luke pressed his fingers in as deep as they would go, rubbing his fingertips in quick, tight circles. He didn't pull away as he shifted to Han’s side, startling a moan out of him when he reaching up with his free hand to give Han’s hair a quick tug.

“No one else can hear you,” he murmured, letting go of Han's hair to lean in and kiss along his shoulder.

Han whimpered, desperate and dazed, pushing back against Luke's fingers. He craned his neck with another soft sound until Luke shifted up to kiss him, his wrist bent at an awkward angle to keep from pulling out, but Luke couldn't even consider it with the sounds Han kept making.

Han broke the kiss with a shaky moan when Luke rubbed with a little more pressure over his prostate, dropping his head to his hands again. Luke kissed the back of his neck before scooting back behind him, dribbling a little more lube around his fingers.

“You're taking your sweet time,” Han mumbled, his voice cracking at the end when Luke rubbed his fingertips from side to side.

Luke would have made a quip about how impatient he was if he felt like he could still put words together.

He didn't have it in him to tease this time.

“One more,” Han said breathlessly.

Han groaned when Luke pulled his hand back, quickly slicking up his fingers before adding his pinky with the first three.

He felt Han stiffen up for a second before pushing back with a soft whine, rolling his hips against Luke's hand. Luke twisted his wrist a couple times before slowly pumping his fingers, leaning in to kiss along Han’s spine, kneading at his ass with his free hand.

Luke felt like he could do this forever, and he suddenly wondered why he hadn't before, even without the strap-on; Han never sounded like this when the positions were reversed, never so pliant and needy, and Luke couldn't believe he had waited weeks before bringing it up.

If he was being self-indulgent, the only indulgence he could find was getting to see Han like this.

He could have forgotten what he was doing this for, lost in the desperate sounds Han was making and the way his back arched when he pushed back against Luke's hand, until he grit out, “Luke,  _ please--” _

Luke circled his fingers over Han’s prostate another couple times before pulling his hand back, wiping the lube still on his fingers over the strap-on. 

He suddenly felt completely unprepared when he squeezed more lube out onto it.

Han looked at him over his shoulder. “What's the hold up?”

“I don't…” Luke started, not really sure what to say, not even really sure what he was feeling to know how to say it. “I don't know how to do this.”

Han rolled onto his back and sat up straight. “You don't have to do anything, you know that--”

“I want to, I just…” He trailed off, hoping the words would find him, but they didn't.

Han waited a second for him to finish before realizing he wasn't going to; he shuffled forward, pulling Luke in for a kiss before reaching back for the thin pillow. Luke had to scoot to the edge of the bed for Han to have room to lie down again, folding the pillow in half and wedging it under his hips.

Luke took a deep breath before moving to sit between Han’s legs. He had been able to ignore the heat building up between his own before, too engrossed in Han to focus on it, but he couldn't help reaching down below the strap-on to press his fingers against his clit at the sight of Han’s dick bobbing up against his belly.

Luke leaned forward to kiss him, propping himself up with his hands on either side of Han’s shoulders to keep the strap-on from jabbing Han’s waist; it felt awkward and unwieldy at first, used to being able to press right up against Han, but he couldn't bring himself to care when Han reached down, pumping his hand over the strap-on a couple times before moving a little lower to circle his fingers over Luke's clit.

Luke whined, twitching against Han’s fingers. He tweaked Han’s lower lip between his teeth when he pulled away, hesitating for a second to rock against Han's hand before shuffling back down between Han's legs.

“Where do you think you're--”

He broke off with a moan when Luke ducked down to take him into his mouth before he could finish his sentence.

Luke hollowed his cheeks as he dipped lower, slowly bobbing his head. He managed to grab the bottle of lube without pulling off, some of it dripping onto the bed when he had to use only one hand to get some out onto his fingers.

_ “Oh, _ fuck--”

He stiffened up against a cough when he slid his fingers back into Han, his hips jerking up to Luke's mouth before Luke pinned him down with his forearm over Han’s waist.

Han didn't even try to keep quiet this time, desperate little sounds bubbling up with each breath as Luke bobbed his head in the same rhythm of his fingertips over Han's prostate. Luke barely noticed the uncomfortable twinge in his back from the angle he had to hold himself at to keep the strap-on out of the way, every ounce of focus on the warm weight of Han on his tongue, his hips twitching up against Luke's arm.

He only pulled off with a reluctant whine when Han tugged at his hair, leaning his cheek against Han’s thigh while he caught his breath.

“Haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet,” Han said breathlessly, brushing Luke's hair out of his eyes.

Luke pressed a kiss to his thigh, circling his fingers over Han’s prostate one last time before pulling his hand back.

Han spread his legs for Luke to have room to settle between them as smeared a little more lube over the strap-on, shuffling forward until the only thing between them was a few inches of silicone.

Luke's insides felt shaky, and he almost reached for the lube again for Han before he batted it out of Luke's hand.

“You're good, come on.”

“Are you sure?”

Han nodded, tugging Luke a little closer by the strap circling his hip. “I need you in me five minutes ago.”

Luke bit back a smile, sliding his hands up the backs of Han’s thighs until Han hooked his legs around Luke's waist.

It had looked so smooth and easy when he had watched Lando, but Luke hesitated with his hand around the base of the strap-on, all the ways he might do this wrong running through his head until Han nudged his heel against Luke's ass.

“Quit overthinking it.”

Luke nodded, more to himself than to Han, holding the base of the strap-on steady while he slowly eased forward.

Han’s head dropped back to the mattress as soon as Luke slid the first few inches in, his eyes flickering shut with a thready moan.

Luke had to shift Han’s legs a little higher around his waist before he could press in all the way, slow and hesitant until his hips met the back of Han’s thighs.

Han looked like he was melting.

His face was flushed deliciously pink, his breathing already shaky and uneven, his hair fanning out messily over the mattress, and Luke didn't realize he had stopped to stare until Han rocked up against him.

Luke started out slow, easing his hips back before gently pushing forward again. The base of the strap-on pressed lightly just above his clit, enough pressure to want to rock into it but not enough to distract him from Han; it didn't feel like anything could have right then.

Han let out a soft whine each time Luke bottomed out, shifting his hips up to meet him each time. 

Luke leaned down to kiss him, muffling a groan when the change in angle rubbed the strap-on right over Han's prostate each time he rolled his hips. He could feel Han’s thighs shaking against his waist, and he had to break the kiss to shift back, lifting Han’s legs until he locked his ankles around Luke's lower back.

Han’s knuckles went white where he was gripping the sheets when Luke gradually sped up, his thighs tight around Luke's hips. Luke was torn between wanting to lean down to kiss him again and wanting to just watch, enraptured by the way his eyes fluttered half-shut and his voice cracked when Luke dragged over his prostate, angling his hips so he pressed over it with each thrust into him.

Luke paused for a second, and Han whined, looking dizzily up at Luke; he didn't get the chance to tell him to get on with it before Luke leaned back, shifting Han’s legs up so his knees were over Luke's shoulders.

Han  _ keened _ when Luke started fucking him again, folded almost in half, pushing back against him with a shaky moan. It was easier in that position for Luke to duck down and kiss along his chest, up to his neck, and he had never been so thankful for the few inches Han had on him until he felt Han’s legs shaking, swearing under his breath with a deep shudder when Luke sucked a mark into the curve of his shoulder.

“You're fucking perfect,” Han panted, slurred and quiet like a thought he hadn't meant to make audible, shakily reaching up to hold onto Luke's hair where he was still kissing Han’s neck.

He could feel Han’s dick pressed between his belly and Han’s, a tiny damp spot on his waist from a dab of precome; he had to lean his weight on one side, bracing his forearm by Han’s shoulder so he could reach down with his free hand.

Han’s knees almost slipped from his shoulders when Luke palmed at his dick, arching up into his hand with a desperate moan.

Han tugged at his hair until he leaned up to kiss him, shaky and needy; Luke pressed in until his hips were flush with the backs of Han's thighs, his head dropping back to the mattress with a whine when Luke rolled his hips without pulling out.

He moved his hand faster over Han's dick, dipping down again to leave another mark a little below the first. Han shuddered against him, rocking back against Luke's hips with what little leverage he had, and he didn't finish saying “Luke, I'm--oh my f--” before he spilled into Luke's hand, hot and thick, dribbling a little over his waist.

It was another few seconds before Han went slack and loose underneath him, his knees slipping from Luke's shoulders. Luke slowly rocked into him another couple times, kissing along Han's neck before gently easing out and sitting back between Han's legs.

His hips ached in a way he hadn't felt before, tired and sore and delightful, a twinge in his lower back that he couldn't help shifting to feel a little more.

Han was still catching his breath while Luke started fumbling with the harness, dazed and flushed as he shakily pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“And you were holding out on that,” he said, his voice rough, “for  _ weeks.” _

Luke bit back a grin, gingerly standing up to pull the harness down his legs; he put the strap-on down on the chair covered with not-really-dirty-yet clothes, and he hadn't fully turned around yet when Han yanked him back down to the bed.

He turned onto his side, pulling Luke close against his chest to kiss him, his breathing still a little heavy.

“You did so good,” he murmured, dragging his hand down Luke's side to knead at his hip.

“Does that always wear you out so much?” Luke asked, his breath hitching when Han wedged his thigh between Luke's, pulling Luke against him.

“You get used to it,” Han said, rocking slightly against Luke until he couldn't help rolling his hips against Han's thigh. “Especially,” he added quietly, slipping his hand down to palm at Luke's ass, “if you get as much practice as I'm hoping you will.”

Luke couldn't keep down a soft, needy sound at that, breaking the kiss with a whine when Han shifted his hand down from Luke's hip, rubbing his fingertips over Luke's clit.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dipping his fingers inside him to the second knuckle before pulling out for his clit again. Luke didn't get the chance to complain before Han pushed him flat on his back, bringing his hand right back to Luke's clit as soon as he had propped himself up above him, mouthing along his neck. “Someone had fun.”

Luke bit back a whimper when Han gently bit down at the curve of his shoulder before shuffling lower, kissing down Luke's torso as he went.

He kept his thumb over Luke's clit, slipping two fingers inside him as he settled between Luke's legs, sucking a faint mark into the soft, sensitive skin at his inner thigh. He didn't take the time for his usual teasing before adding his ring finger, rubbing his fingertips in quick, tight circles, seamlessly replacing his thumb with his mouth over Luke's clit without a moment in between.

_ “Han,” _ Luke panted, bringing his left hand down to Han’s hair, his prosthetic gripping the sheets. 

Han swirled his tongue over Luke's clit, eating him out slow and lazy, still fucked out and boneless. Luke felt like he was floating, the ache in his hips and his back easy to forget about with Han's fingers working him open, already all slick and wet, sucking gently at Luke's clit until his legs were shaking on either side of Han's head.

Luke almost missed when he murmured, “I love you so much,” muffled against his skin and almost too quiet to hear, and Luke's chest felt warm as he rocked up into Han’s mouth with a whimper.

Luke gasped and arched up against him when Han started moving his hand faster, twisting his wrist and curling his fingers in a way that always made Luke see sparks.

It wasn't long before he felt that familiar tight heat between his legs, holding onto Han’s hair a little tighter to grind up against his mouth. Han hummed at the tug on his scalp, the dull vibrations making Luke's legs quiver, and he barely had the time to realize he was getting close before he was shaking all over, his whole body hot and buzzing like an electrical current between Han's mouth and his fingers.

Luke whined when Han flattened his tongue over his clit before easing his fingers out, gently mouthing at his clit as he pulled off.

He couldn't keep down a soft sound when Han wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Get up here,” he said quietly.

“Gladly,” Han murmured, scooting up to kiss him, soft and slow and a little salty. “Think I wanna ride you next time.”

Luke wound his arms around Han’s waist with a whimper, pulling him close when Han settled on top of him.

He could feel Han’s come smearing between them, in too much of a hurry to eat Luke out to bother cleaning himself off before; he decided a shower could wait when Han pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, tucking himself against Luke's side with his head on Luke's shoulder.

“Next time, huh?”

“You better believe it.”

**Author's Note:**

> @hansolosbi dot tumblr!


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